Valor Minuet
by ray.m.bow
Summary: H/D - Harry Potter and his friends are puzzling over the enigma that separates them from everyone. Along the way, they encounter deception, danger and flurries of romance, with blurred lines to differentiate where one started and another began.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Harry Potter are not mine. Never have and never will. So dream in fiction.

First story posting here. Hmmm.

Well, I do hope that whoever stumbles on this story likes it.

Anyhow, some notes about this story.

It _is _AU-ish.

Draco is the dominant, cause good lord, he can sex me up anyway and anywhere. swoons

It will be fairly long, as I tend to write stories that troll on.

I cannot promise quick and fervent updates.

I added my own brush of a world, quite apart from J.K Rowlings.

And lastly, I love yogurt.

**Valor Muniet**

**Author:** Ray.M.

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

I hope you enjoy this chapter and I apologize for the grammatical errors that you find.

_**Chapter One**_

lll

The cornucopia was a vivid warmth that radiated in an otherwise very sterile and immaculate room of business men and women. The food was bland, the talk monotonous and the ever-present air of narcissistic aristocracy wafted from men's expensive cologne and women's overwhelming perfume. They chose to drink from wine glasses, drinking with their cultured mouths to leech years old of wine as they proceed with their casual repertoire of false smiles and laughs to whomever they spoke with. Their knives would strike when the opportunity presented itself, but here, in this Thanksgiving get-together, the knife is casually hidden behind their backs. But heaven knows they would strike if they could so they could reach newer heights in their career.

"Darling, the _boss_ wants a word with you," a voice spoke, feminine and sensual. He enjoyed that about her. That even though she worked in this field of business, she did not succumb to the poor embraces of back-stabbing for the sole purposes of greed. She was kind and sometimes highly oblivious to the goings-on around her. She was erotic. She was his girlfriend.

He nodded to her, thankful for the distraction from his ever intensive scrutiny of his co-workers, the demons that they were. Their fanciful suits and ties accompanied by leers and sarcastic remarks that bid remarkably close to the truth.

But who was he to judge, really. Amongst them, he was the most conniving, if not sultry, of his trade. A passion he could not digress, if not simply for the sheer greed he wallowed in. Though he would not admittedly voice those words, a lingering thought was present. His plans to become the main authority of this hierarchy was present in his punctuality and obsession for his job. And at such a young age.

"Quite the party, Mr. Malfoy," his boss grinned, a drink raised in his name. "I've yet to question the many faces of your audience. Names that course through the business yet none that are names of friendship."

A smile touched his lips. "It's a night to begin them, then, Mr. Voldemort." A few stray eyes glanced at their conversation and he ignored them.

"Perhaps you're correct," the older man drank from his glass slowly before speaking again. "Tonight is a night of friendship." His '_boss_' looked around them before taking the young Malfoy to a quite corner. He did a once-over again before speaking in a low voice. "I have another assignment for you."

The younger man, much too wise for his age breathed in deeply, his turn to scan around to see if anyone was within earshot, knowing well this was not a safe place to be discussing such things.

Knowing he got his attention, Mr. Voldemort moved on. "You see, an expedition was set out nineteen years ago and it seems now that there's a minor setback that's jeopardizing the enterprise that we struggled so hard into fruition." The older man finished the liquid in his glass before placing it aside. "You are to eradicate this... _complication_.

"Of course, if you're not willing to, I could find someone else less capable," he whispered challengingly, watching the boy before him contemplate the offer. Before he could answer however, he spoke again. "I realize you had just completed an assignment, so let me assure you that this one will gain you the rank you've been so eager to establish."

The young Malfoy was looking forward to his time off, spending some time with his family and other such routines that needed attending too, but the offer...

"I'll send you the details," Mr. Voldemort spoke. "You'll have time to think it through." The older man grabbed another glass of wine and left the young man, knowing already that the offer was accepted.

lll

"Harry, you've got to get over it," the ginger head girl said in a matter-factly kind of tone. "Boys like him are not worth wallowing over." She looked over at her assignment, pausing to think before speaking again. "Besides, he was probably being flirty just to bed you, I'd reckon."

Harry groaned. "That's supportive..." Another strew of groans as his head hit the table.

Another boy, a redhead to it's essence of the word, sat down at the table beside the two, a groan emitting from him as well.

Hermione glared at him. "If I have to console you as well, Ron, I will break each of your bones," she looked at her work and began to scribble furiously. "You two are worse than girls going through their period," she whispered under her breath.

"It happened again," Ron said quietly, ignoring the comment Hermione made. The other two looked at him worriedly. "Nothing's too... badly damaged, I suppose. But my dorm mate is a little... freaked out," he chuckled.

"Did he see?" Hermione asked.

"No, he thought I had a lighter or something," he shrugged. "But that's the third time it's happened this week and it feels like it's getting worse."

"I warned you and even your mother spoke to you about rooming with Harry!" Hermione, suddenly outraged, gathered her books and stood. "But you, being the lazy sloth that you are, chose to reside where your classes are closer to where you slept."

Harry mimicked the agitated girl's motions and placed his books in his bag. The two boys followed the fuming girl, the redhead rolling his eyes and lip-synching Hermione's tirade.

"And what's more..." Hermione whirled around and caught the redhead mocking her. Breathing in deeply, she held her books on her left hand, and with one stride towards Ron, slapped him hard on the cheek with her right.

"Fuck!" Ron cursed, holding his reddened cheek. "What the bloody fuck was that for!?"

"Do you ever take any of this seriously, Ron?" her voice wasn't as loud as before, but suddenly weary and tired. "You've heard what your father said. What happens to the people who've been caught in the past."

"That's not going to happen!" the redhead retorted.

"How do you know?" she yelled. "You've just said you couldn't control it!"

"Perhaps the hallway where a passerby could easily hear is not-" Harry tried to interrupt, but was quickly interrupted himself.

"I did _not _say I couldn't control it!"

"What then? Were you fooling around? Burning a fly that caught your fancy?" she screamed. "Tell me what, Ron!?"

"That's none of your fucking business!" he howled in return, just as Hermione screamed in fright, a book in her hands suddenly catching fire. She took her book bag and quickly extinguished the flame.

She fell to her knees, her head bowed and her breathing haggard as the flame was quickly put out.

"I'm... H-Hermione..." Ron whispered. He dropped to his knees as well in front of her. He reached out his hands but stopped, afraid to touch her suddenly. "I'm sorry."

Harry's heart beat stopped the moment Hermione screamed. Never before in their arguments has anything happened quite like that. It was clear that Ron was a bit unstable, especially with his quick temper. He was worried now because this proved that no matter how much they ignored whatever was building, it could not be diffused from simple ignorance.

Ron's parents have warned them, but have not emphasized enough the true meaning of what was going to happen. Watching the two embrace with a quietly sobbing Hermione, Harry knew some things needed to be changed and quickly.

lll

"She's right, you know," Harry whispered to his friend as they walked.

The other boy sighed. The redhead stepped out of line and pure regret was instilled in his unnerved heart. He did not expect to lash out like that. Something cracked and a whip of a flame spurted out, but he didn't understand how. Although, he knew why...

"What of your dorm mate?" he asked, deciding to change the subject, somewhat. "Is he still back with his folks?"

"Yeah, he called the school and moved back home. His grandmother really isn't doing too well." Harry ran a hand through his perpetual mop of hair, sincerely worried about his dorm mate. Last time he spoke with him, he was crestfallen and sounded as if he was at the verge of tears.

"Well, we better hope I can get in. Mum said she contacted the Administrator."

The Registrar office was alive, as usual with students. Both boys had to get a number and wait for their turn to arrive. They had dropped off Hermione a while ago, her wits suddenly in no mood for anything but rest, perhaps a simple nap will do her good.

Harry watched with mild interest at the students walking pass them, some hurriedly and others without a care in the world as they laughed with friends. He wondered idly if any of them were just as different. If they possessed something as well.

He looked over at his distraught friend, who bit his lip nervously. He does it often when he's anxious or bothered. To his eyes, Ron's a normal boy. He wore loose clothes with t-shirts that often have humorous sentences or band shirts, many of which Harry have never heard. Yet, how normal is having an ability to incinerate objects? With a temper to boot.

He was not so different himself...

"Our turn, mate," Ron said, getting up. Harry followed quietly.

The next fifteen minutes were discussed about housing arrangements. It went fairly smoothly and Ron was allowed to move his things within the next three days. Harry, when asked, shook his head about having any problems about Ron being his new dorm mate.

Ron was asked to sign a few papers before they left at the secretary's desk. Said secretary was having an argument with a couple of boys. Well... one of the boys, while another twirled a pen between his fingers.

"I had them faxed an hour ago, we will not stand here and wait-"

"Mister Malfoy," the secretary, now standing up, spoke sternly. "I have no other choice but to have you wait, I apologize for the inconvenience but there is nothing for me to do unless those papers are sent-"

"Oh please, is there someone else I can speak with?" the blonde boy demanded.

The secretary closed her eyes and breathed in. "Just one moment," she said. She tilted her head and looked at Ron and Harry. "Is there something I could help you boys with?"

"I... uhh, a few papers I'm told to sign?" Ron said, feeling as if he shouldn't have heard what he did. Harry also looked elsewhere when three pairs of eyes were looking at him.

The secretary looked at her desk and pulled out some papers and placed them on the desk. "Mister Weasley?" Ron nodded while one of the other boys snorted. Ron glared at the both of them. "Just sign where it ask's for your signature." Then looking back at the other two other boys, she said. "Mister Zabini, my pen please." The boy placed the silver pen right beside the papers. The woman huffed. "I'll be right back."

Harry and Ron strolled up to the desk, prepared to sign and bolt out. An awkward silence ensued.

"Ah!" Ron cried out as he grabbed the utensil.

"What?" Harry asked, concerned.

"The pen... just... a static shock, is all," Ron grimaced, massaging his fingers.

Near them, the blond boy gave the other a heated glare. A triumphant smirk was his only reply. Harry watched the exchange and as the blond Malfoy boy turned to face them, Harry averted his eyes when striking silver landed on him.

Ron finished just as the secretary returned. Apparently he has a complex about signing things without first reading the paragraphs above it. They left and thanked Merlin that was over. Harry found it a bit strange.

lll

Ron had all this belongings properly transferred to Harry's dorm. In between classes, before and after, is when they had the time to move it. A rough three days where sore muscles and bleary eyes were evident in their sluggish movements. Ron had not imagined so many of his belongings to be quite so heavy, nor the distance between their dorms be so far. Many times he almost lost his temper, if not for Harry constantly begrudging him about his rising temper and Hermione's wary glances, the whole of the campus may already be in flames.

It's another three days later, a brilliant saturday afternoon, birds chirping and merry grass swaying in the breeze and all, that Harry found himself locked in the library.

"Honestly, what's my emotions got to bleeding do with the stars," he mumbled to himself, slamming a book closed and writing absolute rubbish on his paper. He then decided to scratch it out furiously and glare menacingly at said paper.

"I'd hate to be that piece of work right about now," a voice said nearby and Harry whirled his head to find the blond boy from the office before standing with a book in one hand. "Although, that pen you're holding is taking quite the treatment as well."

Harry turned back to his paper and cleared his throat. Gently, he placed his pen down as he ran both his hands through his hair. "I'd imagine you'd be quite the same when you're given such a useless assignment."

The boy chuckled and moved to stand behind the chair opposite Harry. "Mind if I sit here? Them other tables are occupied and I couldn't bare to sit with some bubbling baboons this school has for girls."

Harry smiled. "Go right on ahead, but you'll have to excuse me if I suddenly decide to burst in hysterics," he smiled. "I'm going mad."

"That's quite alright," the blond replied, pulling up the chair, but before sitting, he outstretched his left hand. "The name's Malfoy, by the way. Draco Malfoy."

Harry smiled and shook the hand, a shiver running down his spine. He cleared his throat. "I'm Harry Potter." Harry noticed a fleeting look pass by the silver eyes, something he could not distinguish, but it was gone before he was even made aware that Draco had already started to sit down.

"I apologize you had to witness the theatrics from days prior," he said. "Being transferred to a new school and all, I can't stand waiting and it was a long journey here."

"Oh, theatrics liven up the place, by all means," Harry grinned. "Whereabouts are you coming from anyhow?"

"You know," Draco opened his book and smiled wickedly at the boy across from him. "Here and there."

"Right," Harry replied, bowing his head before the warm feeling was made apparent on his cheeks.

It was two hours ago that the blond boy had left, having read halfway through his book and deciding he needed dinner. He asked if Harry wanted to accompany him and he politely declined. His work needed his full attention. And really, why read indoors when it was ridiculously beautiful outside, Harry didn't know. He wasn't much for conversation either, being engrossed as he was.

Satisfied with the two pages of written garbage he had mustered up, he checked the time. He was going to have to buy food out seeing as how the cafeteria's had closed nearly an hour ago. Blast his luck. Lately, things have not been working to his favor. He cleared any pessimism circulating his head and walked out of the library.

lll

Blaise Zabini's head schemed plans, crossed out some and added a few more. A brainstorm - a web of ideas stemming from one to the other, erasing any possible flaws. He was cunning, to say the least, and it rivaled his trains of thought, almost. As Draco looked at his companion, a sinister smile twitching on his thin lips, he knew that Blaise Zabini had worked up an objective, a proposition of sorts.

Usually, his formulated plans would seem harmless and tactless, but they grew. Revelation of the whole scheme of things wouldn't be revealed up until it smacked you in the face. Draco learned to be one step ahead. He saw where Blaise's trains stopped and dropped off. He would scour every inch of the idea and proceed with his own doings, for after all, it was he that was doing any acting.

"Just friends, mate," the boy across the suede divan smiled rogouishly, a cup of tea in his hand and a forgotten book on his lap. "See what stems of it. Clearly, he does not know."

Draco could hear the mechanics of Blaise's mind turning. "And what of you? You were asked here as an aide not--"

"Draco, Draco," Blaise interrupted, setting his tea down. "Voldemort may hold you in high esteem, but he did not bring me along with you to reminisce of my turbulent school years." He eyed the blond boy casually seated across from him. "I have my own list of tasks. I am assisting you in any way I can but I am by no means your attendant."

"No, you're not," Draco replied, standing up and removing non-existent lint off of his Yves Saint Laurent jacket. He looked out the window, noticing the slightly changing colors of the leaves and calm breeze billowing with the retreating sun. "You're a liability." He walked away then, not waiting for a response and headed to his room. He had homework to do after all.

lll

_to be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Harry Potter are not mine. Never have and never will. So dream in fiction.

**Valor Minuet**

please ignore any grammatical errors you might find and enjoy this chapter.

_**Chapter Two**_

lll

The temperature was unbearable. Harry could not breathe. Everything was congested, the air going into his lungs scorching his body. He awoke gasping, realizing it was not a dream. He fumbled out of his covers and headed out of his room running into Ron's.

"Ron!" he yelled, opening his door. The temperature was worse. Harry could feel dancing flames tickling his skin, even though there were none. He coughed loudly, having difficulty gasping for air. He ran to the boy twisting in his blankets, skin hot to the touch and perspiration littering his reddening skin. "Ron!" he tried yelling again, shaking the boy.

The red-head, however, would not wake. He groaned and bucked on the mattress, fists clenching tightly on his blanket.

"Ron, wake up!" Harry began to panic, unable to rouse his friend. Instead, he ran to the bathroom and filled a large pitcher of water. Rushing back quickly to Ron's room, he emptied it on the boy's head.

The red-head gasped and sat bolt up right, his breath's coming in short ragged intakes.

Harry stood there, watching in horror as his friend grabbed the trash bin and convulsed, emptying what little was in his stomach. Harry ran to the window and opened it, hoping the cool breeze would enter the very humid room.

"Harry..." the boy groaned, his eyes red and still panting.

Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed the boy's arm and dragged him out of the room. "Let's go outside. You need some fresh air."

lll

"I couldn't control it... it was a sort of... seduction," the red-head said quietly, looking up at the empty night sky. "A temptation."

Harry fingered the golden ball on his necklace, looking also at the dark night. The moon was high and bright, a silent crescent blade over a sleep filled night. But for the both of them, they knew it was the end of what sleep they had hoped for.

Ron had tried to recall his dream, remembering only snippets of what horror his subconscious impressed. Perhaps not being able to remember it was a good thing, for Ron shook at what little he recalled, and it was not from the chilly night. His skin was still warm and it had taken him quite some time to slow his breathing to normality. Of this, Harry worried over his friend greatly, feeling helpless for he could only provide his softly spoken support of words.

"It burned, like hell, quite literally," he rubbed his arm absentmindedly. "It scares me, you know?"

"I don't understand," Harry said. "Your parents did not have it this bad, I don't think."

Ron thought about what his parents had told him about their own experiences and could not for the life of him ever remember them telling him about sleepless nights of unstable constraints with their own potency. He needed to speak with them again, of that he was sure. And why was it that only he is so greatly affected by... by this - whatever it is.

"One things for sure though," the boy smiled wickedly at Harry. "Glad it was you, mate, and not some other poor bloke who would have had his panties in a knit."

Harry chuckled and shook his head. Only Ron could make something so serious into passive joviality.

They sat there for a while, their minds alluring to different consequences of '_what if's_' and '_what could have been's_'. Both knew that had it been someone else other than Harry, Ron would have been under serious attention of his being. The school could not have someone so... _unnatural_ exposed to the other students. Not when their lives could be at critical risks.

They headed up before the slow rise of the sun could kiss the horizon, reckoning the room should be normal in temperature by now. Neither of them saw the silver eyes that overheard their conversation.

lll

A few days passed without any incident. Ron, Harry could tell, was having trouble sleeping after that night. The raven-haired boy did not know how to console his friend and therefore stayed up playing card games with him the past few nights that he could not sleep.

Ron had spoken to his parents the morning of the whole debacle but received inconclusive feedback. However, if it were to happen again, he was to return back home. His parents deemed it much more important for their boy to be safe at home than be at school if it ascended to that point. Harry and Ron did not argue. Hermione, however, when she was told of the information, suggested that he go home immediately.

Every morning the girl's doughty spirit kept questioning Ron of anymore '_incidents_'. She was relieved, yet slightly disappointed each time. Relieved that it did not happen again, yet disappointed that he could not leave to be someplace safer. She was careful not to tread on being persistently annoying each morning.

Harry finished his classes early on Friday's. By afternoon, he's left wondering where to waste his time. Ron and Hermione were still in class and would not finish for some time yet. Harry did not want to think about his homework until Sunday evening, something his frizzy haired friend would berate him about.

"Harry!"

He turned around, recognizing the voice immediately. He smiled, "Hello, Seamus. Done classes already?"

"No, that small cow of a professor and I had another argument," the boy grinned.

"Honestly, Seamus," Harry said. "If you do your homework, Flitwick wouldn't even so much as bat an eyelash at you."

"You don't understand," the boy groaned. "I could do my homework and he would claim my clothes weren't respectable enough for his class. He has a grudge, that one!"

"About what?"

"That's the thing! Nothing!" the boy exclaimed. "At least none that I'm aware of. Although... I did super-glue an apple, stapler and pen on his desk... once. But he couldn't have known that was me!"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Well, enough of that," he rattled. "What're your plans tonight? Do you remember Justin?"

Harry looked at him questioningly, trying to put a face to the name.

"Has his hair always like this? Walks a bit awkward?" Seamus said, trying his best to describe the other boy. Harry shook his head. "Well anyhow, he's having this party tonight at one of the student housings. Lots of alcohol to get you right pissed and decent music and girls... well, err, blokes for you, anyway."

Harry shoved his friend lightly.

"I'm just saying!" the Irish boy laughed. "You know I'm only teasing. So come tonight? Hermione and Ron too."

"I'll tell them," he said.

"S'all I ask, princess," the boy grinned and winked.

"Stop that," Harry laughed. "You want to be labeled a shover, too?"

"Fuck what people think!" the boy exclaimed. "Come have lunch with me!"

lll

"A delinquent, for the most part, but usually, you don't worry about that, you know?"

Harry was shaking his head yet could not rid of the grin splitting his face. He had abandoned his food, unable to stomach anymore of the greasy fries and overdone burgers. Seamus on the other hand was shoveling them down as if it was his last meal. Also as if what he had to say was so important, he would speak with fries flying from his mouth.

"I can't imagine you any other way, Seamus," he laughed.

"Honestly, I'm more respectable than most blokes in regards to that kind of thing, but you know... nowadays it's hard to find someone as charming as me," he said, broadening his grin.

As he spoke, Harry noticed a certain silver-eyed blonde make his way into the cafeteria, looked at Harry, as if deciding something, before glancing away. Harry didn't know if they were considered friends. He was waiting for some form of acknowledgement and having received none, came to the conclusion that they were mere acquaintances.

"Oi, Harry, who've caught your fancy now?" Seamus turned around and looked, having lost the boy's attention. Harry closed his disobedient eyes. "Mmm, I'd shag him any day."

"Sometimes, I really do wonder about your sexual orientation," Harry wondered aloud.

"Same," he belched loudly, earning a few disgusted looks from around the cafeteria. "But I imagine I have enough masculinity in me not to be looked on as one," he smirked. "Whatever happened to that Oliver character anyway?"

Harry groaned, "Please, let's not talk about him."

"Sorry mate," Seamus grimaced. "I thought he was a charming guy, really."

A sigh escaped the raven-haired boys lips. "Yeah, it's hard to find those nowadays." He watched the blonde leave with a drink in hand and one last wary glance towards Harry's direction. Harry flushed and looked away.

By evening, the trio found themselves at the doorstep of a house vibrating with music. Harry looked at the other two, having second thoughts about this. Harry was no party animal, and neither were his two close friends. He could not remember the last time he was even slightly buzzed from alcohol.

"Who's brilliant idea was this again?" Hermione asked, and as if on cue, Seamus stepped out, recalling another story or the other to some other friend of his, arm slung around said friend's shoulder and a pint on the other.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Here they are!"

"Uhh... Hi, Seamus," Harry said.

"Seamus, are you pissed already?" Ron asked.

"I am not, I'm just... happy!" he exulted. "Oi, Hermione, Parvati is looking for you in there," he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry and Ron before heading inside. "I'll see you boys inside."

"Harry, I would like to introduce you to Neville," Seamus winked. Harry shook the outstretched hand and exchanged Hello's.

"You had better not be playing matchmaker again," Ron said.

"I'm not! Oh and this is Ron," he said off-handedly. Ron punched Seamus lightly before shaking the offered hand given to him. "And if I wanted to play matchmaker, I would start with you and Hermione," he grinned. "Lord knows your teetering about her will cause you a nosebleed from all that blood rushing to your head."

"Stop that," Ron grunted.

"I'm just teasing," Seamus laughed. "Let's not be sour pickles. Let's head in."

At some point, Ron and Seamus had wandered off and he was stuck chatting with Neville. Somehow, it felt as if that was Seamus' whole doing. The boy wasn't unpleasant by any means, but he seemed awfully nervous about something. Seamus had handed him a drink at some point before slipping off and constantly yelling 'Cheers!'.

It was difficult to hear what the boy so close to him was saying, the close proximity that they were, and it became unbearably uncomfortable when someone had accidentally shoved Neville, pushing him flush against Harry.

"S-Sorry," the boy stammered.

"S'alright," Harry smiled.

"Harry!"

Crap. Before he could think of a way to avoid confrontation, Neville was easily pushed aside, making him look up slightly at Oliver Wood.

"I didn't think you'd come!" His breath smelled of alcohol and Harry had to turn his face slightly away. "Imagine this surprise. How are you, love?"

"Excuse me?" Harry said perplexed. He chuckled. "Don't call me that."

"Why not? I'll say what I feel," the boy in front of him said sternly, taking a swig of his drink. "How've you been?"

"I've been better since about ten seconds ago," he said tersely. He looked around for Neville, that boy was much more pleasant to talk to. Instead, he caught sight of the blond and as if sensing the verdant eyes on him, turned to face him.

"Harry, love, I'm speaking to you," Oliver said, grabbing his chin and turning Harry's face to him. Oliver glanced over to whom Harry's attention was distracted to. He furrowed his eyebrows at the blond staring at them before looking back down at Harry. He smiled wickedly. "You know, I always fantasize about you when I'm alone..." Oliver nuzzled his neck. Harry tried to push him away, but the drunken boy was holding him tightly at the waist, pulling him impossibly close to the taller and much more muscled boy.

"Oliver, let me go," he said sternly.

"Don't say that, love," Oliver purred, knowing the blond still had his eyes trained on the both of them. "I've missed you very much."

"Oliver, I can count the amount of times we've had an actual conversation in one hand!" he exclaimed into the boy's ear. "And what's more, you're incredibly drunk!"

"I'm not drunk," he said, pulling away and looking at Harry in all seriousness. But Harry could see the red tinting the boy's eyes and awful stench of alcohol permeating from that hole of a thing he calls a mouth. A grin split the taller boy's face. "Let's go find a room, I have something to show you." Harry was about to protest but the grip on his wrist had him being dragged.

He cursed the loud music, wishing he could yell out for Ron's help.

Oliver shut the door soundly and smiled, as seductively as he could, at Harry. The raven-haired boy grimaced. "I've always wondered what it was like to fuck you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Good lord, if you could see yourself now."

"I'd want to see me fucking you," he purred. He pushed Harry down on the bed.

Harry instantly rolled off and stood up. "Listen, you're a nice bloke, but... your track record is something I don't want to be a part of," Harry tried to explain. "I'm not like that."

"Then we'll have something," the boy said excitedly. "We'll have a future together and ten or twenty years from now, you'll be laughing at what an absolute prat you were being."

Harry smiled despite himself and shook his head. "Do you say that to everyone you try to bed?"

A dark look blanketed Oliver's face, all false merriment erased. "Don't make this difficult."

The muffled sounds of the music was suddenly very much appealing to Harry instead of being in the room with this boy. "Goodbye, Oliver," Harry said, heading for the door. But Oliver crossed there first and blocked it. Harry frowned. "Move, Oliver."

"No," the boy said, advancing on Harry. "You'll enjoy this."

"No, I won't," Harry replied, backing away from the boy. "I'm not going to be one of the many catamite's begging on their knees."

In an instant, the boy was against him, pushing him against the wall. "You will regret saying that, love."

Harry bit his lip at the tight grip Oliver's hands had on his wrists. "Let.. me... go," Harry growled. He made to knee the boy in an inappropriate place, but Oliver moved his hips closer. "I will cut your dick and shove it up so far up your arse if you so much as think about raping me."

"Empty threats, dear Harry," he said, slamming his lips against Harry's. Harry grunted and locked his lips together, a prodding tongue demanding entrance. Oliver thrust his confined erection against Harry, causing the boy to gasp. He took advantage of this and delve in. Harry bit the boy's tongue.

"You..." Oliver let out a short gutteral sound, easing some of his weight off of Harry. Noticing his chance, Harry made to escape, but those muscled arms grabbed and shoved him back against the wall with a to his jaw. Harry hit his head against the wall at the same time and gasped in pain, seeing stars. "You're going to regret that!" Oliver growled.

Before his fist would land, the hand stopped midair. Oliver, confused turned around and was met with his own punch to the face. Ron took Oliver by the collar and punched him again. At Harry's exclamation of his name did Ron stop and throw the bleeding and pissed boy on the bed.

"You alright?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Just a bleeding lip."

"Let's get out of here," Ron said, placing a hand to Harry's back and leading him out of the room.

Once outside did Ron cup Harry's face and examine the bruise. He didn't notice it in the room, but now it stood out quite painfully.

"Really, I'm alright," Harry tried to reassure.

"I'm going to burn that son of a bitch," Ron snarled, letting go of Harry and made to head back inside.

Hermione burst out at that moment. "There you are! Have you-" but looking pass Ron did Hermione finally see Harry. "Harry we've been looking all over! What happened!?" She ran to him and too cupped Harry's face and examined the bleeding lip, hampering any irritation she had with worry.

"_Nothing_, it's just-"

"I'm going to murder Wood, that's what!" Ron yelled.

"He's inside and causing quite a ruckus," Hermione said, suddenly much more concerned than before. "Ron, I think it best we head out of here."

"Not until I knock Wood unconscious." Ron turned around. He did not have to go far, for the boy on his current death-list was stumbling out, having been shoved outside.

"Fuck off, Oliver, we don't need your shit here!" Someone had yelled.

"Yeah, piss off!" Another yelled.

Ron walked up to the boy and gave him an astonishing uppercut right in the jaw. "You son of a _bitch_!" he snapped. "You belittled yourself to hurting people when you don't get what you want, Wood?" Ron grabbed the collar of the boy who was sprawled on the ground, groaning.

"Ron, stop it!" Harry yelled. Hermione screamed at the sound of the impact.

There appeared to be much more people now at the door, watching the display. Some grinning and cheering them on.

Ron punched the boy again in the face. "By hurting my friends, you're hurting me. But I'll teach you a lesson," he whispered dangerously. Harry ran to the red-head, grabbing his hands to stop him, but at the touch of his skin, Harry recoiled - burnt. Ron threw another blow at Oliver's face.

Harry looked around them. There were too much people for Ron to lose his temper. They could all see...

"Hermione!" Harry yelled, desperate for help.

Her eyes were at the brink of tears. "Ron..." she whispered, suddenly afraid of the boy. Ron either did not hear or chose to ignore her. With a firmer voice, she yelled, "Ronald Weasley, stop it this instant!"

Ron was in the midst of hooking another uppercut to the boy when he heard her. He looked back at Hermione and saw her frightened eyes and shaking head. "Hermione?" he whispered. He let go of Oliver's collar, unceremoniously dropping him to the ground.

The Parvati girl came running to Hermione then. Giving one last frail look at Ron, Hermione headed back to her dorms with Parvati by her side.

Ron gave a helpless look at Harry.

"Let's go, mate, party's over," Harry whispered consolingly. The music inside the house had died and it seemed everyone was outside spectating. Ron gave one last disgusted look at Oliver Wood, his face bloodied, before walking back with Harry beside him. He felt no remorse for the bleeding boy, only that he could not erase the sheer fright that he had instilled in Hermione's eyes.

lll

"Blond, almost white I'd say," Ron explained. "Same height as me, I think. The bloke at the office, remember?"

"Draco?" Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"I suppose," Ron said. Harry had asked how Ron knew where to find him, explaining when he was given a tip from the blond stranger he had met nearly two weeks ago. He was glad for him, really, else who knew what Oliver would have done. Ron shivered at the thought. "How do you know his name, anyway?"

"Oh, we introduced at the library," Harry replied. "Remember that '_Stars_' essay I was moaning and groaning about?"

"Ah, yeah," Ron chuckled. "More like bitching and whining."

"Shut up," Harry replied just as heartily.

"Don't talk," Ron abolished Harry teasingly. Ron had insisted he clean up Harry's wound and he did not notice it before, but apart from the split lip, Harry had a shallow gash just to the side of his mouth. Probably a ring Oliver had been wearing. Harry sat on his bed, and being notably tall, Ron was able to crouch down and comfortably clean Harry's wound. "I'm sorry about that, Harry," Ron whispered seriously.

Harry looked at the boy in front of him, his ministrations intent on cleaning his wounds. Harry sighed. "I don't think it's me you should be apologizing to, Ron."

"I couldn't hear either of you," Ron tried to explain. He knew who Harry was referring to. He stood up then, having finished cleaning and bandaging the gash. "I was so furious."

"I know," Harry replied solemnly. "I'm just worried that... well, you could very well be expelled, if not arrested for what you did."

"Mother would have a right fit," he smirked.

Harry did not share Ron's quirky sentiments. "Did you think about going back home?"

"Harry-"

"I'm serious, Ron," Harry stood from the bed. "I don't want you to, but-but think about what's happening now. You could have very nearly killed Oliver."

"He deserved it!" Ron replied.

"His death because I have a split lip?" Harry asked.

"He was going to rape you!"

"No he was not, Ron," Harry replied, exasperated. "I wouldn't have let him."

"Oh, you sure as hell looked like you were putting up a fight," came Ron's sarcastic remark.

"I can take care of myself," Harry angrily replied.

"Bloody hell, you can," Ron scoffed.

Not wanting the row to progress further, Harry bit back his reply, opting instead with a curt _Goodnight_ before heading to his room and closing the door, soundly enough to convey his anger.

lll

The tension between the trio was palpable. Harry could very well drown from it. Ron was still angry at Harry, and vice versa, really. And Hermione was angry at Ron, and for whatever reasons (quite possibly from just being his dorm mate) Harry as well. When Harry approached Hermione, she would give him simple replies and excuses to be off somewhere else. Harry decided to give whatever space she needed for the time being and buggered off. Ron had not apologized to Hermione _or_ Harry and Harry was not going to apologize to Ron anytime soon either. So it was a continuous wheel of animosity and remorse, all three of them too stubborn to do anything too much about it. It was quite a conflicting scenario.

What perplexed the raven-haired boy was that there was no news about what happened that Friday, a week ago from today. Ron had not been confronted about the incident, of what Harry could tell, and Oliver Wood had been absent from school so far. _Rightly so, I'd imagine_, Harry thought. He wasn't about to complain, however. This whole _overlooking_ of the incident is a nice welcome from the current state of things.

So with a stubborn sigh, Harry walked out of the school, hoping for some meal that could ease his worries away.

"You're heading off to lunch?" a voice called. Harry stopped and turned to the blond whom the voice belonged to.

"Hi," Harry said to Draco. He watched the very well dressed boy walk up to him. Harry fought the urge to look the boy from head to toe. "And yes, I am."

"Mind if I join you?" Draco asked casually.

"I suppose not, no," Harry said.

"Ah, nice to see your little scratch is almost healed." Draco rose a pale hand and ran his thumb lightly across the smooth skin.

Harry flushed and looked away. "Umm, so where do you want to eat?"

Draco smirked and pulled his hand away.

lll

"Thanks for... erm, telling Ron about last Friday," Harry said, almost shyly.

"Anytime," Draco smiled. Harry had to look away from that charming play of the other boy's lips, trying to deflate the constant blush marring his cheeks. "Although, he really needs to watch his temper."

Harry nodded. "Ron's like that, acts before thinking."

They were at a dining restaurant a few blocks from the school. A cozy Italian plonk of a place that could be mistaken for someone's home. Picture frames littered the walls, the mantle tops and even beautiful vistas of art. The aroma of freshly cooked food wafted about, furthering the comfort that the diner portrayed.

Draco watched the boy across from him play with the golden ball on his necklace. Appeared to be a habit. "Say, what plans have you got tomorrow evening?"

Harry jerked his head up and looked into silver eyes. "Umm, probably more homework. You know how it is. Why do you ask?"

"I've got these pair of tickets to a theater show that my mother gave me and Blaise refuses to accompany me..." Draco said. The implication was there and this time, the red on Harry's cheeks could be counted to hundreds of different shades. "Would you?"

"I-I can't say I've been to very many theater shows," Harry stammered. _Oh God_, Harry thought. "I'm not sure I'm t-the right person to ask, really." He tried to laugh off his nervousness, but to his own ears, he sounded hysterical.

"You'll be alright. I had meant to ask you before, but, I can never seem to find you alone," Draco said casually, ignoring Harry's obvious apprehensive behavior. "You'd certainly be a much more enlightening company that Blaise ever could."

Harry gulped. Was that a pick up line? "Umm, I-I suppose I'd be delighted to then."

"Then it's a date."

"It's a what?" Harry almost choked on his water.

"I was merely teasing," and thus ensued the blond boy's enthusiastic laughter. Harry threw a baby carrot stick at him.

lll

To Harry's horrid luck, he became increasingly more anxious when Saturday evening arrived. He browsed through his scant wardrobe, cursing that he could not find something that would be suitable for a theater show. Surely, he should not be as panicky as he is. Was it a date? Was he trying to impress the Malfoy boy?

Harry had it cemented in his head that he most certainly was _not_ trying to be impressive. Although, he did need to wear something impressive enough so he would not be scorned at the show. He looked at his blue denim jeans, tattered at the knees, and laughed at himself.

A black turtleneck and black fitting pants, because he did not have dress pants and a dress shirt would be far too classy for his taste. _And because I feel like a snob in it,_ he said to himself.

Harry had given Draco his room number yesterday at the diner, prompting Harry to be ready by nine and it was currently a minute before that. He was ready to leave and tried to his best abilities to tame his raven locks, but with a simple step in any direction, wind or no wind, his hair was mussed. The fight was always futile.

Just as he made to sit and wait, the knock came at his door. _Punctual_, Harry thought. "Ron, I'm going out." He opened the door to Ron's room and saw the boy seated on his bed reading a football magazine. The red-head had a question at the back of his throat, but swallowed it down instead and grunted a reply. Harry sighed, closed the room door and headed to the dorm's main one.

"Good evening, Potter," Draco nodded.

"Hello," came Harry's breathy reply. He mentally slapped himself. The blond boy had a black form fitting coat with navy blue jeans that hugged just the right corners. His hair was gelled back, not a strand out of place, and his silver eyes glinted as if the moon was the culprit behind such an enigma. Harry breathed.

"You ready, then?" Draco said, snapping Harry out of his examination. Harry nodded and stepped out.

lll

"Then who's her lover if not him?" Harry asked.

"Were you not paying attention?"

"It was hard to follow!" He replied.

They were walking from the parking lot and back to the dorms. Harry had not imagined it to be as chilly as it was, so Harry was offered a light jacket that was at the back seat of Draco's car when the blond noticed his slight shivering.

"Well, I suppose the dialogue was a tad inconsistent," Draco said. "But having seen it many times, I already know the full story. I'll take you to one that's a lot more... tolerant of your aptness. Or lack there of."

"Hey!" Harry pushed the boy on the shoulder lightly. "You sodding blonde. Watch your mouth or else you just might find it bleeding."

"I'm only teasing, dear Harry," Draco laughed. "You are much too fun to rile up."

A scream startled the both of them. They looked at the dormitory building ahead and people were slowly filtering out. A flash of light erupted from one of the windows as smoke billowed out. Harry's heart sunk to the floor. He ran as fast as he could towards the building.

"Harry!"

Another explosion, and this time, the window shattered as a burst of flame whipped out. "Oh God," Harry whispered in terror, abruptly stopping.

"Harry, what-?

Harry ignored the light touch on his shoulder and the worried voice asking him questions. He turned around and looked at the blond. "Ron," he whispered before making a dash into the building.

lll

_to be continued..._

**A/N: **oops, cliffhanger. reviews are most welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Harry Potter are not mine. Never have and never will. So dream in fiction.

**Valor Minuet**

ThanksInnocentEyes931 for the suggestion. I did just that.

Anyhow, please ignore any grammatical errors you might find and enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter Three**

**lll**

It was with morbid fascination and a quelling thirst to dissect the feeling that ran through Harry's body, that he forego'd the elevator and went to the stairs instead. He felt at the near of hyperventilation and an overwhelming need to weep in sorrow with the panic that shot through him. But the thought of his red-headed friend was at the forefront of his mind. He chanted his name like a mantra, taking the steps two at a time until he reached their floor.

Here, it was worse. At the distance, he could feel the flames of the inferno lap at his skin, urging him closer, but inside, he was cold. Incredibly so, and the feeling of utter depression returned, tenfold.

"Ron," he whispered, walking slowly towards the flames that were breathing from their dorm room door. It was so hot that he could not step any closer. "Ron!" he screamed, sudden tears welling his eyes. But the echo of his voice was quickly muffled by the rage at which the fire burned. It was slowly creeping and burning everything, coming closer to Harry. He shivered, even though perspiration littered his skin. The bone chilling fact that Harry had no idea what to do caused the tears in his eyes to descend. He could not do a thing.

Harry could have simply imagined it, but wiping the watery blur from his eyes, he could see the figure. Cloaked in black and... well, floating, the wisps of its robes billowing. The hooded head turned its direction towards Harry, causing the boy to lose all air that was in his lungs. The thrum of his heartbeat slowed and the oppressing embrace of anguish wilted any hope that he may have harbored. He fell to his knees and embraced himself, biting the torrential pain that gnawed at his heart.

He felt as if he were about to faint, but then it stopped. His blood flowed and his pulse quickened. He looked up to find the figure had disappeared, and so were the flames. Harry gasped and with fumbled bearings, he ran to the blackened door that use to be an entrance to their dorm.

There was no smoke, no embers, no touches of a flame. Only the remnants and aftermath of one. The heat still lingered.

"Ron!" he cried out.

He ran to the boy's room and found the boy in a fetal position on the floor, naked. Harry almost succumbed to another wave of tears before he ran to the boy's side.

"Ron," he whispered hoarsely. "Ron, I'm here. Oh God, please open your eyes."

"H-Harry?" the boy whimpered.

Harry nodded, unable to speak. He would leave questions out for later, right now, they had to leave. The sound of sirens were now a continuous note of questions upon them. Harry removed the jacket he wore and draped it over the boy that was now sitting up, thankful that it covered most of Ron's dignity.

"Harry," the boy looked at him with half-lidded eyes. "It hurts, Harry."

Harry tried to control his breathing and nodded to comfort the boy. "Ron, we have to leave, okay? Right now, I need you to get up with me."

"'m tired, 'arry," the boy drooped. "Sleep?"

"Not here," Harry wrapped his arm around Ron's shoulder, heaving the boy up with much difficulty. "Please Ron, I need you to be a bit more helpful here."

"'right," the boy whispered, trying his best to stand on numb legs.

They made it out into the hallway and turned into another as heavy footed steps were heard coming from the stairs he had come up in. With the boy's heavy weight and not much support standing up, Harry was having great difficulty moving them. Tiresome as it was, he could not stop until at last they had made it down another flight of stairs and outside to the chilly breeze.

Harry laid Ron on the bench and watched the boy go back into the fetal position. He sighed and heaved a large breath of air, running shaky hands through his hair. Much of commotion was on the other side of the school, and the wail of sirens were still uninterrupted. He had to get Hermione.

"Harry!"

Harry spun at the sound of Parvati's voice. People need to stop doing that.

She placed her hand to her mouth, gasping. "I'll go get Hermione. Thank god we've found you, both of you."

lll

Harry described the events that led up to his uncontrolled squall of tears once Hermione was with the both of them. He retold of the plethoric emotions that twisted his heart and the cloaked _thing_ that he had witnessed. She asked him where he was before the incident and Harry shyly told her of the show he attended. Hermione did not question further about said show and instead focused all her thoughts on what had transpired.

Parvati had volunteered to go out and get some food, knowing well that the three needed some time alone. Only Harry and Hermione was awake, but they were thankful nevertheless for her subtle acceptance of their need to sort things out.

Ron was on Hermione's bed, sleeping soundly. Harry or Hermione would check every thirty minutes for the boy's heartbeat and were continually relieved to feel the steady thuds. It was well pass midnight and Harry could not stifle anymore of the yawns that escaped his lips.

"We'll talk more about this tomorrow," Hermione said sympathetically, hearing Parvati come back in. She gave a longing look towards Ron's sleeping form before she went off into Parvati's room for sleep.

Harry let out a shaky breath and looked at Ron. He thanked whatever gods that were listening that the red-heads life was spared. Another yawn escaped him and fell asleep on the duvet placed on the floor of Hermione's room.

lll

"Out with it!" he bellowed angrily.

"Draco, Draco," came the humored reply. "I was having a bit of fun. Progressing this little operation, shall we say. Heavens, I'm starting to think you've actually got feelings for that Potter boy, as well."

"This isn't the routinely _raid's _that you're accustomed to, Blaise," came the scathing reply. "This is a bit more delicate. What - or rather _who_ we have to deal with have their own level of potency. And I will _progress_ this as quickly or slowly as I please."

"Silly Casanova, I do hope your heart are not on strings, I do wonder what Pansy might think?" Blaise sipped his tea.

Draco growled. "If you invoke another one of those demons, I will see to it that you're removed. I will _not_ have you sabotaging_ my operation._"

"Ah, yes, it's always about you, isn't it?" Blaise gave a mischievous smile.

"Yes, it is," Draco sneered. "Don't forget where your rankings stand, my boot's are getting dirty."

Blaise glared.

"Always keep that one eye open when you sleep, Blaise," Draco drawled before heading to his room.

lll

It was with mild annoyance that the increasingly loud noises outside of his room got louder. He groaned and cursed the muffled sounds. His head throbbed and opening his eyes seemed an awful idea at the moment. Ron could not remember drinking at all last night... in fact he was... He sat bolt up right, his eyes wide and everything from last night suddenly returning.

He was naked, thankful for the blanket that covered him, a blanket that did not belong to him. He stared in wonderment before he looked around the room, recognizing it as Hermione's, the many time he's been here. The many books along her shelves, assignments strewn on her desk and overall tidiness everywhere else, had her name all over it.

"--drinking and had come straight here!" Hermione cried out as the door to the room was opened.

An officer, balding but tried desperately to comb over what little hair he had left over said balding spot (Ron mused), entered the room and regarded the half naked boy. Ron clutched the blanket a tad higher up his exposed skin.

"Where were you last night, Mister Weasley?" came the stern command of the officer.

Hermione gave him an alarmed looked and Harry made drinking motions with his hands. "Out for a pint, sir," Ron replied. "Got right pissed and came back here with Hermione and Harry."

Hermione showed her relief by relaxing her tense body. Harry gave him a thumbs up.

"So you're unaware of your dorm room burning into flames?"

"My what-!?" Ron replied. "N-No, sir, are you sure?"

The officer sighed. "You'll have to speak with the school in regards to your belongings or any valuables and where to stay," the officer explained before giving Ron a wary stare. "It's quite a mystery what the firefighter's found when they arrived there. Claimed the whole dorm room looked as if the fire had been days ago and everything is ash. But it had taken them less than a minute to see the fire from downstairs and the non-existent blaze once they arrived on the floor."

"What're you implying, officer?" It was Hermione that said this.

Still keeping his gaze on the red-head the officer said, "It's quite an interesting story." The officer did not believe he did not get the full story from, what he could tell, the naked boy on the bed. But seeing nothing else to disprove their alibi, he looked away and made to leave. This whole story was hurting his head and quite frankly, he hated anything to do with students.

Ron's surprise at the mention of his room - well not just his room but his and Harry's whole dorm - had erupted in flames and what remained were only ashes, was not in disguised act. He had felt the sensations, the lava running thick under his skin and the overwhelming heat of everything in and around him. He had no concept of what had transpired around him and only the morning after did he acknowledge of such a feat.

More than anything, he felt shame. Once again he had no bearings to what he had done. Committed. It would have been alright had it just affected him, but Harry was taken into account as well. He had been reassured by the raven-haired boy that it was not something to be overtly troubled about, but he knew better. They were just words to comfort him.

He had explained to Harry and Hermione how it had supervened. Ron had been superiorly angry when Harry had left and wallowed in an ember of hate. At some point, it had become increasingly cold, even with the window closed. The glass had frosted and his lights flickered. An intrusive pounce of sorrow had emerged then. He tried, oh how he tried, to warm the room with heat. He channeled all his focus into creating warmth, and for a while, it had sustained. Until all that focused channeling opened a dam and everything poured out. Everything had been bleary afterwards.

Ron could see the tip of a scolding iceberg dance on Hermione's tongue, but he could tell she was holding it back. Harry had asked if he had seen the cloaked figure and at the shake of his head, Harry furrowed his eyebrows in thought.

They had gone out and spoke more of the incident, someplace where it provided a bit more privacy. Harry hardly thought a Coffee Shop was the place to go, but seeing students with their mobiles or earphones on, perhaps it wasn't so bad. They were after all in corner secluded far enough from everyone. Their conversation, however, was a circle of repetition.

Ron barely touched his sandwich as he looked forlornly at the clouding sky. Harry wanted to comment on _Hermione's _baby blue pajama bottoms and form fitting sweater on him, but decided against it. Now was not that time... although, something brilliant for the future, he grinned.

"My folks will be here tomorrow evening," came Ron's distant voice, his eyes still glued out the window.

Both Harry and Hermione looked up at the broken silence. "Ron..." Hermione whispered.

"Yes, I know you've told me before, and I should have listened, then," Ron began.

Hermione stood up and embraced the boy, quieting anything else he could have said. Harry gave a dejected look at his best-friend, submerging the coming angst that grazed his heart. He could hear Hermione sniffling and the slow glaze that marred Ron's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Ron croaked, apologizing to the both of them. "I'm so sorry."

lll

It captivated Harry how something dying could be so beautiful.

Autumn.

The leaves were vibrant with color. They demonstrated the full effects of beauty and lured anyone that could see. The reds a passionate temptation to beguile your eyes. The yellows and oranges a deluge of warmth that danced in the wind once free of their fixings. Although the weather itself was colder, the rainfall of color warmed you with contentment. And he needed that, even if many of the tints of red reminded him of his friend.

Ron had been gone for three days now, and everyone noticed his downcast expressions and their unanswered questions of worry. He paid them no mind. He was allowed to wade in the dark waters of gloom every now and then.

The school had fixed him with a temporary room with a lad named Lee Jordan. An over enthusiastic fellow, Harry had to admit, and often times he could not reach the caliber of his good musings and moods. But that was alright, he supposed. The darker-skinned boy made up for Harry's own current lack of good spirits. So, really, they were quite fitting as dorm mates.

In regards to Harry's belongings, or the ashes of them, they were reimbursed by the school. With no parents to help with the losses, the school found it necessary to replace the boy's belongings, or at least allow him to. Harry had been given a surplus of money from the school, more than he could ever hope for.

Hermione had dragged him all around yesterday for new clothes, ones that did not look as if he was a weight-loss patient going anorexic. Harry was thankful his frizzy haired friend had a taste for clothes, berating him over his lack of enthusiasm. With no response, Harry looked despondently at her, knowing full well where his thoughts currently lay. The girl gave a sigh, as if she had been holding it the entire time thus far.

"He'll be okay," she had whispered then, sounding as if she was convincing herself. "We'll be okay." She had dropped the clothes that were in her hands then and engulfed Harry in a quivering embrace. Harry returned it shakily.

There was no exuberance at the closet of new clothes or the new books and other gadgets one needed to be of social code in the school. He scolded himself many times at his overly dramatic distress. It wasn't as if the boy was dead, or he was never to return and see him again. He shivered at the thought. No, simply not. He would see him again. Soon, he hoped.

So with that thought in mind, he gave a boisterous laugh at Seamus as the boy commented on his _I've-just-had-the-most-delicious-sex_™ look. Raven locks askew, cheeks tinted rose from the wind, and clothes that could make any devoted married man chance a second look at the well fitted form. Seamus swooned.

lll

"Why not you then? What if they're still after _you_?" Seamus looked at him seriously, his empty plate pushed aside as he crossed his arms on the table, leaned forward slightly and stared at Harry.

"I'm not saying that it _was_ an attempted homicide, Seamus," Harry grinned despite himself. "His folks just happen to assume that and would rather they have him back home, and the officer's don't know either," he lied. "And besides, it's almost Winter Hols and something about some family event, a wedding perhaps."

"So, imagine it _was_ an attempted homicide, don't you think it's best you scamper from this place as well?"

Harry looked at his plate, more than half the food uneaten. "I'd rather risk here than be back with the Dursley's."

"Harry, Seamus!"

Harry looked over at Neville, thankful for the distraction. "Alrigh', Neville?"

"Alright, Harry," he replied. "Seamus, my notes, I've almost gotten detention."

Seamus had the audacity to look bug-eyed and laugh. "You, a detention?"

"Yes!" Neville exclaimed. Harry had never seen the usually subdued boy so ruffled, and it further amused him when he took the proffered sheets, rolled them up and slap Seamus against the cheek. "I'm never lending notes to you again."

Seamus continued laughing, and eventually, Neville and Harry joined in and they all looked a bit hysterical. Harry was thankful that no more questions were asked about Ron's sudden departure. He was hopeful that whatever information he had given Seamus, albeit lies, were enough to quell his curiosity and leave it be.

It was hours later when they decided it was time to head back to their rooms and finish what homework they had. Winter Hols may be fast approaching, but this did not mean the professor's were keen on the idea. If anything, they bombarded much more work. A bit diabolical, if one ever wondered.

Seamus was prattling about some assignment he had received, no doubt from Flitwick, when he was interrupted by the call of Harry's name. Seamus had the door open and was about to step out into the November wind, Neville and Harry behind, when the trio stopped and turned to the voice.

"Draco?" Harry replied, confused.

"Might I have a word with you?" he asked, giving furtive glances at the other two boys.

"Of course," Harry said, before turning around and speaking to his two friends. "I'll see you two tomorrow, all right?"

"Want me to wait up for you?" Seamus asked, a bit wary.

"No," Harry smiled warmly. "I'll see you, Seamus, Neville."

Both boys said their goodbye's and headed out the doors.

"I've been..." Draco started, "Umm, well I've been looking for you, but with obviously no luck." Draco reprimanded himself for babbling.

"You've found me," Harry grinned.

"Right," Draco returned the grin. "I'm... sorry about the other night."

"It's not your fault," Harry replied. "Just bad fortune. We're just lucky... neither of us were there." Harry wondered how many times he could lie in one day.

Draco noted the lie and the obvious discomfort it was giving the boy, but he pushed it aside. "I'll walk you to your dorm," the blond offered.

It wasn't a far walk to the next building, really, but Harry did find it a bit pointless to stop him for a talk just to walk him to his dorm. Although, it was a tenderly sweet gesture. He flushed, hoping the cool air would fool any wandering eyes that could see.

He supposed the slow walk and comfortable silence was a pleasant welcome, having almost lost his voice chatting up storms and laughing with the other two boys earlier. The trees weren't a bad view either. The sun was setting, the orange fiery glow prancing atop the heads of the trees, and it amplified their brilliance by displaying their own glorious beauty, as if on fire. How ironic, and horribly morbid.

Harry chanced a glance at the other boy who also seemed enthralled by the spectacle. Said boy turned his head when he felt eyes on him and laid them on the verdant green that appeared alive within the washes of yellows and reds. Those green eyes seemed to panic at having been caught and they looked away and down, and if Draco had to guess, the red that stained the smooth skin was caused _not only_ by the crisp air.

The blond couldn't help smirking. He didn't understand why, but he enjoyed making the boy furiously uncomfortable sometimes. Those shy smiles and dynamic green orbs that hid behind glass frames that tempered its full dominion on whomever they lay on. He was tempted, more than once, to run his fingers through that impossible mop of black hair and figure out if it was as soft as he imagined. _Imagined?_ he asked himself. _I'm imagining about boys now? _His eyes still on Harry, he traveled down to the defined nose and red lips. He chuckled to himself. He most certainly was imagining about boys. How silly.

Harry looked back at him then. "W-What?" he asked.

Draco's smile grew, finding that he did not have to force it when he was around this boy. He looked back at the trees and said, "Just admiring the beautiful view."

lll

Many miles away where the shadow of the day would not be fabricated by man-made structures, rather the natural canvas of trees, were the anxious foot falls of the two Weasley adults, Arthur and Molly. Behind them was Ron, a bit agitated at the whole concept of this _training_. But he decided not to rebuke it, Lord know's what had happened the last time he had not paid heed to the people around him's constant nag for his well-being.

But really, did this whole training have to be so far out into the forest where there were leaves...

"You do know I'm a hot-headed fire-breathing dragon, right, Mum?" he asked.

Molly turned around and furrowed her eyebrows at her son. "Add _cretin_, _delinquent_ and _scamp_ in that sentence and I _might_ agree with you."

"Ha-Ha, very funny," Ron tut-tutted. "I'll burn this very forest down, then you'll see."

"Don't be a hellion about this, Ron," his Father spoke, keeping his pace and looking ahead. "Your instructor does not tolerate incompetence," he could hear Ron begin to protest but continued, interrupting him. "We chose him because he's good at what he does. He's done this many times before and I've no doubt you'll be able to control your potency in due time."

Ron sighed.

"He is quite a bit ill-mannered at times," Molly spoke. "But he means well. I think." She whispered the last part. "We had gone to school with him. He was a nice lad then, then at some point or another, he had gone a bit over his nest and well... quite bitter now, actually."

"So what you're trying to tell me is that you've put me in the care of a madman?" Ron jeered. "I'm going to turn into one of those... those... power hungry barbarians that want nothing more than to take over the world and enslave-"

"Now you're just taking it a bit over the top," Molly raised one of her red brows at her child. She turned back around and kept walking beside her husband. "Were we that maniacal when we were his age?" she asked him.

Ron sighed again. They had come into a clearing. A very large one, if Ron had to say so himself. The size is comparable to a football field with the trees lining the edges. The floor was littered with stray leaves from the forest that surrounded them. But there was no winds to billowed about. The ground was hard packed soil with stray weeds poking here and there.

The sun was high in the sky but provided no comfort in the November air. It was very much secluded and eerily quiet.

"We must be early," Arthur said, and even the quiet tone of his voice seemed amplified by the deafening silence that followed after.

"Actually, you're quite on time."

All three turned to the sound of the voice, seemingly emerging from the shadow of the forest. He wore a cloak that appeared to suck in any ray of sunlight that cascaded its ebony folds. His whole attire was black, even his hair.

Molly and Arthur went up to greet the man. Ron stood where he was and regarded him further. He certainly had the whole _I'm-going-kill-you-with-my-frown_ spot on, to the point that when the man's eyes laid themselves on Ron, he gave an involuntary shiver.

The man approached him. "So, this is the notorious Weasley who could not control his potency."

Ron looked over at his parents that now stood near the edge of the clearing, his mother waving to him enthusiastically.

"I will tell you this once," the man said. "These next coming months will put a strain to your body, your mind and your soul. You will relinquish your whole being to be absorbed by this mystery that your body holds, and only then will you learn of it's purpose, it's authority... and as such, yourself."

He regarded the frowning boy. _Discipline_.

"Lesson one," the man snarled, as he raised a single arm, palm towards Ron. "Underestimation is the key to death." In an instant, Ron was flying backwards, landing hard on his back against the soil, meters away. Dust erupted at his fall and he coughed as he sat up, a flourishing pain emitting from his back.

"Bloody fuck?" Ron cursed quietly, coughing.

Molly had screamed then, but Arthur held her back.

"There are no rules when the matter in question is your life," the man slowly approached him. Ron grunted and stood back up, his eyes suddenly flaring. The man smirked, _There you are. _

"And just who are you, then?" Ron barked, his fists suddenly warm.

The man smirked at him. "I am Severus Snape, at your service," the man extended his arms to the side and bowed. Still in a bowed position, he tilted his head up, smirk still in place and looked severely at Ron. "Lesson Two: _Never _have your guard down!"

Ron watched the man - Severus Snape - move his hands in quick succession in front of him, and instantly he felt a pull at his chest as he was once again thrown back.

An ember of a flame tickled at Ron's palm.

lll

_to be continued..._

**A/N**: Well... hmmm, what to say about this chapter. Look! its Snape! hahaha. Anyway, I wanted to give more hints about Draco and Blaise's relationship. friendship? i dunno.

Snape is part of the whole grander scheme of things. you'll soon see... if you have questions, feel free to ask and i'll answer them the best i can.

thanks for reading this story. reviews are always welcome.

ray xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Harry Potter are not mine. Never have and never will. So dream in fiction.

**Valor Minuet**

**Chapter Four**

lll

The ice ran thick through his being. A cold gasp of air smoked out of his mouth and he was left grasping for that bit of life that was freed. His mind ransacked for a solitary pedestal of thought, but he could not rid of the ambivalent hope that it would end. Oh, how wrong was he. A cacophony of noises erupted, such a piercing scream that only the paramount of pain could emit, echo'd the dark and dank walls. A vibration of pain, a sweet and lamentable elegy of calling for the greedy hands of death. A resonance of a chuckle could be heard over his ragged breaths as the infliction ceased. His body was numb and breathing through his mouth was a labor.

"Care to repeat what you had just said, Mister Nott?"

His eyes were squeezed shut and tears were trailing down, his body prone. The floor, though colder mere minutes ago was a welcoming warmth for his frigid body. He opened his mouth, but no words escaped, just a hoarse cry of pain as another onslaught assaulted him. His body arched and another scream flared.

"Your misdemeanor is something I cannot tolerate, Mister Nott." The voice was closer now, beside his ear. But he did not take refuge of the breath that wafted his skin, for it too was a cold gust of air. "May this be a lesson."

He could not breath. Could not feel a pulse or a single mold of his body. The pain eluded his conscious and it was left as a blank slate. The sounds of his agony was muffled to his own ears and with a welcoming smile, he succumbed to the pleasure of unconsciousness.

lll

"Lord Voldemort's empire is once again at large," Snape said curtly. His voice was nonchalant and always a sound of authority. No emotions of regret or fear laced his words. "His ruthlessness is easily shadowed by contacts he manipulates. Politicians, government officials, high-class snobs who have more money than they know what to do with, and whatever have you."

A snort came from the red-head who nursed a bruise on his left bicep, watching the exchange between the three adults seated at the couches.

Snape ignored the sound and continued. "As you know, nineteen years ago was the pique of their downfall-"

"Yes, yes, they had destroyed-" Molly stopped herself and sighed dejectedly. Arthur placed his hand on her back, soothing and comforting her.

"We're all too aware of what he destroyed," Arthur spoke. "But what are Dumbledore's thoughts on this?"

"As wise and humble as he is, he is growing old," the barest hint of sorry laced his words. "He would not do well as he did many years ago against a madman."

"Is there nothing?" Molly asked. "Nothing we can do?"

"The Seer's had prophesied this 'second-coming' of sorts, that leads to the downfall of an evil. A boy that lived is the sliver of hope." The beady man ran a hand through his oily hair. "It's a vague inscription that could be perceived in many different ways. But we have belief that it could be-"

"Harry?" Ron spluttered. The three adults turned towards him.

"Ron, what's Harry got to-" Molly started speaking but Snape interrupted her.

"Your son has more brains than I pegged him for," Snape drawled. Ron scowled at him and his parents looked on in confusion. "Nineteen years ago, the Potter's Empire was attacked by Voldemort. There was no conclusive facts to disprove Voldemort's innocence in the matter and to this day, the case is still unresolved."

"And Harry was the only one who survived," Arthur thought out loud.

"Yes, it was all over the papers," Molly said.

"It was covered up, of course," Snape continued. "As many know, the Potter's were well known for their skill in alchemy. Brewing potions, medicines, and such. But secretly they were teaching our kind to hone their magical potency. There is a strong belief that there was a traitor that leaked information to Voldemort of what was going on and seeing this as a threat to his own business - well as they say, the rest is history."

"He was afraid for his own business?" Molly asked in disbelief.

"Yes. The Potter's had clear and law-abiding intentions for their teachings. Voldemort on the other hand, taught nasty trickery," Snape finished off with a small smirk. "He wanted our kind under his control."

"Does Voldemort know that Harry is still alive?" Molly asked.

"He knows quite well, but he had left a mark on the boy those many years ago that would contain his potency, never to be revealed or unveiled," Snape said. "But bottling all that potency is dangerous, not only to whom it resides in, but also the people that are around."

All three of the Weasley's listened in rabid interest, digesting what information they were being given.

"The Potter's were a powerful line, much too powerful. And this is why Voldemort sought to destroy them. He only succeeded due to the fact that the Potter's use an item that would suppress some of the potency that they harbor," Snape let out a strangled sigh. "This item was of course their downfall."

"Does Harry carry this... thing?" Molly was once again the one to ask.

"Yes, but we have no idea as to what it may be," Snape replied. "It's something he must carry all the time and holds sentimental value."

"With the mark Voldemort left on and this item, he must have no potency at all..." Arthur thought out loud.

"But... that's not right," Ron finally spoke up. All three adults looked on to him to continue. "Sometimes when he gets really angry, or emotional, things would shake. Like an earthquake, almost. But a tiny one."

"As I said," Snape said, the slightest quirk to his lips. "The Potter's were a powerful line. And we must find this item before Harry Potter himself would be too overwhelmed from all the suppression."

Ron droned out the talks the adults were carrying and turned to face the window. The snow was falling lightly outside, like small feathers, soft and delicate. Icy veins crawled along the glass, creating patterns and reflecting the light that emitted from inside.

Harry was in trouble, he was for certain. Not only in regards to Voldemort's possible plans, but also what he's withholding back, and he doesn't even know.

He furrowed his eyebrows. His training was going smoother. He was learning much more than he had in the last twenty years of his life. He would train harder to protect his friends, his family and Harry. And Harry would be free from whatever it is that's holding him back, he's got to be.

lll

Harry's fingers absentmindedly played with the golden ball on his necklace that rested at the hollow juncture of his collarbones while the other hand wrote an essay. He never understood these written assignments that ask about who you are. Really, Harry knew who he was and the whole world didn't and had no right of knowing. With a drawn out sigh, he scribbled more rubbish that were half-truths.

It's been three weeks since Ron had left and the winter holidays were slowly approaching. Ron had written, talking about how well his training is going and the parent-approved fact that he could stay with the Weasley's for the holidays. More than ever, Harry was excited, especially after that letter, even if it was just three days ago he had gotten it. The only things dampening his mood were the many assignments he had gotten along with his peers. Professors, it seems, have a knack for making your life hell just before its impermanent bliss.

Harry looked down at his paper. It sounded ridiculous. Just as he was about to read it again, it was snatched away. He turned around quickly.

"..._I was the youngest football player of my team at the time. It was excellent because it left people in shock_ _and it made me feel important,_" Draco read out loud.

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed, trying to snatch the letter back.

The blond tyrant held it away, having a couple inches of height over Harry, it did not take too much effort. "Little Harry kicking around a football, sounds adorable," Draco smirked.

Harry gave up, folded his arms across his chest and gave the blond his darkest glare he could muster. Of course, it was hindered by the red tinting his cheeks.

Draco could not help the smile gracing his lips. "I'm only teasing, poppet."

Harry snatched the paper that was handed to him and placed it face down on the desk. "I told you to stop calling me that."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because, why?"

"You're so difficult sometimes," Harry sighed, exasperated. He turned around and started placing his things in his bookbag.

"You've got any plans tonight?" Draco blurted out.

"I will not go to another bar with you and have old ladies and men hitting on me," Harry said, snapping his bag closed. "However much you enjoyed it, it was not my cup of tea."

"Could have fooled me," Draco replied.

Harry let out another sigh. "I've got to study, Draco. This workload is bothering me and I'm not sure I'll be able to complete all of it."

"You're working yourself out, Harry," Draco said seriously, all mirth gone. "You need to take a break. You're on edge all the time and you snap at everyone, especially at me. I don't know whether to be honored or frightened for my life, sometimes."

That left a small smile on Harry.

"I'll come get you at eight," Draco said. "I promise it won't be a bar this time."

"I'm going to hold you on that promise." Harry put on his coat and started walking out of the library with Draco.

"I can help you with your assignments too, if you like," Draco grinned.

"Maybe," Harry said, giving the other boy a calculated glare.

"My next class is this way," Draco halted and faced the other boy. His hands twitched. "I'll uhh... I'll see you tonight, then."

"Okay," Harry smiled.

Draco opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "Okay... tonight. See you then, poppet," he finally said and walked away.

Harry shook his head but could not do the same to the smile on his lips.

lll

"I am _not_ in love with this boy," Harry grumbled out, laid back on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Hermione was at his desk and writing. Lee was out with his mates.

"Well, if not you, then he is of you," Hermione said matter-of-factly, not losing a heartbeat from writing. "You two go out on what seem like romantic dates more times than the homework we receive."

"Don't be silly, we're just friends," Harry snorted.

Hermione placed down her writing utensil and swiveled the chair to face Harry. "All I'm saying is, be careful, alright? Boys are... well, boys. Your lot is hard to figure out."

Harry sighed and gave a slight nod, which seemed to appease the frizzy girl for she continued on with her writing.

Love? Harry didn't know what love was. There was caring, he knew of that. Hermione cared for him. Ron and the Weasley's cared for him... but love? Sure they may love him in respect to a mother loving her son, but even then, Harry never really knew much about that. And the form of love from intimacy... he knew far less. Love is something Harry could not grasp or understand. It was a small word with an assortment of meaning.

He looked at the time.

"I suppose I should start getting ready," he grumbled, feeling comfortable on the bed, yet anxious. "What do I wear?"

"Where are you headed to?" Hermione asked.

"He never really said," Harry thought, getting up.

"Wear something casual then."

Harry looked through his closet and pulled out a bunch of clothes. "This shirt or this shirt?"

Hermione turned to look. "Dark blue," she replied before turning back again.

Harry put it on. "These trousers or these?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Certainly not that one," she said pointing to the trousers that were near their extinction, holes on the knees and such.

Harry put the other on as Hermione turned back to her assignment.

"This sweater or this one?"

Hermione grumbled. "Now what was the point in choosing a shirt if you're going to wear a sweater? Honestly, next you're going to have me help you pick out which underwear you'll wear."

"Well..." Harry started, smirking.

"Ugh," she harrumphed. "The red one. Red looks good on you."

A knock on the door interrupted him. He quickly put on the sweater and looked at the time. It was quarter to eight.

Hermione started packing her things, knowing well who was at the door.

"Good evening," Draco greeted as Harry opened the door.

Harry stared, his mouth slightly open. Draco was wearing a black turtle neck with dark blue jeans, his coat slung on one hand and his hair slicked back. Harry missed a few heartbeats.

"Potter, close your mouth," Draco said coolly. "And are you ready to go?"

"Uhh.. Hi, and uh yes, I think," Harry stuttered.

"Well I'll be off then," Hermione said, placing on her coat and rushing pass Harry. "Good night, Harry, Draco."

"'Night 'Mione," Harry replied.

Draco nodded to her before turning to Harry with furrowed brows. "What was she doing here?"

"Homework," Harry replied. He breathed in. "Oh, come in, I'm almost ready."

Draco did as he was told and entered, closing the door behind him whilst Harry ran to the bathroom.

It was nearly nine in the evening by the time the two reached their destination. A casual restaurant with a pompous air of money. Harry imagined it was where the rich snobby kids went for a casual meal... as casual as you can get, anyhow.

The bar was sectioned off by a glass wall with a door. Harry could faintly hear the ruckus howls of the men as they cheered their team on from the tele. The women were wearing short dresses that were showing far too much skin for the weather just outside. It made Harry grimace and slightly uncomfortable. He was glad he wore these trousers without any holes after all.

The table they were seated at was accommodating for the two of them. It was near the middle with other tables surrounding them. Harry much preferred sitting by a wall, but he was in no place to complain. The lights were dimmed quite low, and the candles in the middle of the table wafted the scent of the ocean. It was far too romantic.

A waiter came up and introduced himself, asking for drinks and appetizers if they wanted any and left shortly afterwards.

"What are your plans for the holidays?" Draco suddenly asked.

Harry stopped his perusing of the restaurant and landed his eyes on the glinting silver ones staring intently back at him. "I've actually been invited to stay with the Weasley's," Harry said. At Draco's confused look, Harry continued. "Ron? You remember Ron. I'm staying with them."

"Oh." A flash of disappointment raced by those silver eyes that Harry barely noticed. Or at least he thought it was disappointment.

"Where are you off to?" Harry asked.

"To France, actually," Draco said in a bored tone.

"With whom?" Harry certainly did _not_ have an ounce of jealousy laced with that question. He hoped.

"No one now," Draco chuckled. Harry realized what the original question had implied and he grew red. He mumbled an apology but Draco waved it off. "I've a friend I need to meet and is in severe condition. I probably won't be long, anyhow."

Harry nodded. "What happened to him, or her, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He was... in an accident, you could say." This time, Draco avoided his eyes. "A life lesson."

"Draco!?" a booming baritone voice suddenly blurted. "Draco, is that you!?"

Both the seated boys turned to the approaching hulk of a boy.

"Vincent, what are you doing here?" Draco gave a laugh, standing and greeting the other with a handshake.

"To use the loo," Vincent bellowed. Clearly he was under some alcohol influence. "Oh hey, Pansy, Millecent and Greg are here too!"

"Wha-?"

"I'll go tell Pansy you're here!" Vincent said before Draco could stop him.

Harry sat there, confused and absorbing everything in and watched the boy go through the glass doors and come back with a girl trailing behind him.

"Fuck," Draco whispered.

"Are they your friends?" Harry asked, mildly amused at Draco's expression.

"They-" But Draco was cut off again.

"Draco, darling!" the girl screeched, embracing Draco and planting her full red lips on Draco's.

The glass of water on Harry's hand froze halfway through his gaping mouth. His breathing stilted and he stared at the glass as he slowly lowered it back to the table. He removed his shaking hands and placed it on his lap.

"Who's your friend?" the girl asked.

Harry gave a small smile, stood up and extended his hand, willing the shaking to go away. "I'm Harry, it's nice to meet you."

"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you as well, Harry," Pansy replied. "Who would have thought I'd run into this horrid of a boyfriend," she then turned and glared playfully at the blond. "Who doesn't return my mail, might I add. He's never mentioned you before."

_Boyfriend_...

Draco was staring at Harry, trying to gauge his reaction, but Harry did not return the stare. He kept his focus on the girl in front of him as she chatted. She seemed nice. Very pretty and easy going. She could melt anyone's heart with her easy smile and casual demeanor. To Harry's surprise, she did not dress like a tramp in this cold weather. She hardly exposed any skin at all and Harry was finding it hard to hate her.

Draco's hand had slithered around the girl's waist, Harry noticed, taking a quick glance before meeting her eyes again.

Harry needed to go breathe. "Excuse me a moment," he said once she'd taken a pause. "I've got to use the restrooms. Here, have a seat," he said, offering his seat.

"What a gentleman," she smiled. "Thank you."

Harry smiled back.

"Harry?" Draco said, almost a whisper.

Without meeting the blond's eyes, he said, "I've got to use the restroom," he stated tightly before turning and walking away.

He thanked whatever gods were pitying him at the moment as he saw a back door exit. A shaky sigh escaped his lips and the sting at the backs of his eyes grew angrier. He shut them in hopes of relieving that pain, but the heart in his chest would not cease its painful thumps.

The air was even colder now. The fog that escaped his lips came in erratic sequences and he hugged himself. He had left his jacket inside, and wearing only a sweater now, he was quite cold. He needed to get away. Get away from anyone blond, anyone with a charming smile and easy words. Anyone that lets loose the butterflies that are caged inside him.

He walked away from the restaurant and searched for a payphone. Finding one, he felt slight relief to be out of the harsh winds. With numb and shaking hands, he dug into his pocket and pulled out what change he had, placed it in the slot and dialed.

"Pizza Delivery, how may I take your order?" came the faux italian accent.

"S-Seamus?" Harry stammered.

"Harry, that you mate?" came the cheerful reply.

Harry could feel the prickles of liquid pooling his eyes. "Seamus... can you please come get me, please," he said hoarsely.

"Harry, where are you? You're scaring me," came the nervous reply.

"I'm at the Bistro Garden on Sheppard and Jane street," he replied.

"Oh fuck, you're far," Seamus remarked. "I'm leaving now. Be in the restaurant. Stay warm, I'm leaving now."

"Okay," Harry whispered before the phone went dead. He looked at the restaurant, not too far away. He got out of the booth hesitantly and walked back.

Harry had just reached the door when that Vincent boy burst out. "There you are!" he exclaimed. "Draco and I are looking all over!"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and did his best to glare. Vincent had opened his mobile and telling someone, whom Harry assumed was Draco, where he is.

"Tell him I've left," Harry said with a shake of his head.

"Come again?" asked the boy in confusion, the phone still to his ears.

"Tell him to fuck off and that I'm going home." Harry shook his head and started walking away from the restaurant again.

"What's your problem mate?" Vincent sounded irritated.

"Harry!"

He didn't turn around to the voice, he just kept walking. The cold wasn't so bad now. He could scarcely feel it against his skin. What tears he had turned to ice and the flow had ceased... for now, anyway.

"Harry stop!"

The voice was closer, but still he kept walking. Seamus will be here soon. Quite suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. He had no energy to shrug it off and therefore, had to allow those same hands to turn him around. He took in a shaky breath and stared at the pale throat of the boy in front of him.

"Harry..."

He shook his head. "Leave me alone," he whispered, hoping to turn around and continue his progress, but the hands won't let him, now on both his shoulders.

"Let me explain," Draco said.

This time Harry looked up into the silver eyes, suddenly angry. "What's there to explain? Explain _what _exactly? I saw what I saw and... and..." his voice quieted down and shook his head. "There's nothing to explain. She's a beautiful girl."

"Harry!"

He turned, hearing Seamus. He wondered if he could get sick of hearing his name. Seamus's car was nearly horizontal across the road as he jumped out and ran towards them. The raven haired boy looked up at Draco once more. "It was nice meeting you, Draco Malfoy."

"Harry, you alright?" came the panicked question of the irish boy. Harry turned away from Draco and started walking towards Seamus. "Why are you only wearing a sweater!? Fuck," he exclaimed, removing his own jacket and wrapping it around Harry's shivering frame. Seamus looked back to Draco, giving the blond boy a disbelieving glare. He was sure the blond was the cause of this. Shaking his head, he opened the passenger seat, allowed Harry in before running to driver's side.

Draco looked on as the car was lost in the white night.

lll

"It is done, sir."

A dark voice chuckled. "Amusing... how very amusing."

"If you don't mind, sir, I would like to ask what the point was."

"Ever the curious, are we Mister Zabini," said the dark voice, the mirth still evident.

"There were four of them there, they could have easily-"

"My intentions were not so," interrupted the dark voice. "But merely to see where some loyalties lie, and it seems it is still in question.

lll

to be continued...


End file.
